


The Baby Jesus' Pompoms: A Farm in Iowa Story

by sheafrotherdon



Series: A Farm in Iowa 'Verse [33]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:11:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>December 24th, after Finn turns four.  Chaos.  The usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Baby Jesus' Pompoms: A Farm in Iowa Story

  
____spacer____  
  
[[festive nose warmers!]](http://www.originaludderbalm.com/gear/nosewarmers.php)  
  


  
John buys the knitted nose warmer in October, right about the time Rodney's easing into his six-month-long bitch session about Midwestern winters. It's a good bitch by now – "Humans were not _meant_ to survive temperatures of ten below without the aid of a Tauntaun!" – polished and refined over several seasons – "If I had wanted to find out what 25mph winds could do to exposed flesh on a day like today, I would, unlike you, have written some code and run a simulation, not gone to fetch the mail without a coat! You have the survival instincts of a ferret!" – with personal anecdotes thrown in for a little extra color – "Snot freezes. It actually freezes – did you know that? It freezes and . . . no I did not turn it into _snot bombs_. You are disgusting. No, really. _Shut up_."

(Pointing out, as John did the first winter or two, that Rodney grew up in Canada doesn't do anything to make the bitching stop. John's hoping the nose warmer can do what plain fact can't.)

John spots the nose warmer in the window of the Silver Spider when he drives out to Mount Vernon for his annual throwdown with Madge Olsen's decrepit boiler. He lacks experience with nose clothes, but John's pretty sure the warmer, made out of cherry-red yarn and sporting a yellow pompom at the end, is the nastiest knitted object he's ever seen, not excepting the toilet roll holder someone gave the Fitzgeralds for their 45th wedding anniversary. It's soft, and the tag tells him it was made by a seventy-five-year-old grandma nearby, so in buying it, he tells himself, he's supporting the local economy like all good Iowans should. He pays by cash, takes it home, stows it on the top shelf of Finn's bookcase behind a fuzzy green alien and a stuffed cow named Dingo, and promptly forgets about it altogether. That's maybe where the trouble starts.

December 24th, sometime amid the post-lunch annual scramble to make the house look presentable before anyone stops by, Finn pounds downstairs yelling, "DADDIES, I FOUND IT!" and before John can gird his loins for the small, dead animal or strip of condoms such a cry usually involves, Finn bursts into the living room wearing the nose warmer as a g-string, every precious bit of him tucked away.

Rodney looks up from the pile of Christmas cards he's opening, and silence follows. Finn just grins, his hands on his hips, the pompom on the nose warmer jiggling as he hops from foot to foot. "I found it!" he says again, in case anyone missed the first, important newsflash. "It's CHRISTMAS TIMES!" he yells, and pumps his fists in the air.

John coughs into his elbow and tries not to look guilty.

"What _is_ that?" Rodney asks.

"CHRISTMAS TIME UNNAWEAR!" Finn cheers.

John can feel Rodney's gaze come to rest on shoulders, and he turns around, a Target bag half-full of trash in his hands.

"Did you put him up to this?" Rodney asks.

"No," John says. "He told you. He found it."

"Someone had to buy it," Rodney points out.

John hitches one shoulder, hoping it'll buy him a little time to think, but Rodney just keeps staring. "Not necessarily?" he says at last. "I mean – maybe it's . . . "

"CHRISTMAS TIME UNNAWEAR!" Finn supplies, and begins to run around the living room, out into the kitchen, through the office and back again, all the while _Zoom Zoom_ -ing in his best four-year-old impression of a plane. The pompom jiggles ominously.

"Look, it's a nose warmer, okay?" John asks. "It was a Christmas present for you – keep you from getting frostbite."

Rodney tilts his head and stares at him like he's grown antlers in the night.

"Knitted. Real soft," John points out, gesturing as Finn zooms by. "You hold it on with those . . ." He winces. "There's yarn."

Rodney nods slowly. "I see the yarn."

"Yeah, so, it's – yeah."

"So, there's really only one question," Rodney says, setting down the cards. "Did you teach him to do that?"

"Wearing what, my giant knitted codpiece?" John asks dryly.

"I wouldn't put it past you."

John quirks an eyebrow. "I'd need a hell of a lot more yarn than's in that thing."

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, because now's the time to impress upon me the size of your magnificent cock."

"COCK!" Finn yells, zooming past.

Rodney rests his forehead against the table.

"Yoohoo!" calls a voice, the kitchen door creaking open. "Anyone – "

"CHRISTMAS!" yells Finn, running into the kitchen. "MISSUS GUNNASON, IS CHRISTMAS."

John's frozen – he's actually frozen to the spot, completely unable to move his limbs and go to the kitchen, thereby to ward off potential disaster and shame.

"Well," Ada's voice drifts in. "Don't you look festive."

"Is my Christmas unnawears," Finn explains.

"And did your daddies give you that?" Ada asks. John swears she's trying not to laugh.

"Yes, yes, and they have some too, only they wear them unna their jeans, is secret."

Rodney splutters helplessly as Ada snorts in a manner not always associated with elderly neighbors. "You are so dead!" he mouths at John.

John clears his throat. "We're in here!" he yells, hoping Ada can ward off his dismemberment. Finn zooms back in, nose warmer still jauntily strapped to his body, little butt waggling as he zooms into the office, arms outstretched.

"I'm very disappointed," Ada says, appearing at the doorway.

Rodney pushes back his chair and stands, babbing nervously. "This has absolutely nothing to do with me, this is _all_ his doing, his nefarious, knitted-good buying, utterly shameless doing, as if I would wear _that_. On my nose, on my nose, not that I could get it to – no, no, on my nose, that's where he intended me to wear it, pompom and all, and besides I have a scarf, I'm very accomplished at winding it around my face when the windchill dips below – "

"COCK!" yells Finn, zooming past again.

" – and anyway, tea, coffee, nog?" Rodney's all but wringing his hands.

John tries to look innocent. "Gag gift," he shrugs.

"I'm still disappointed," Ada says, setting down her purse and unwinding her scarf, "since _I_ had knitted you sparkly purple g-strings for Christmas, and where's the surprise now?"

John loves Ada Gunderson, he _loves_ her, goddamn, she is an angel from on high, and he doubles over, _har har har_ -ing, hand jammed against his thigh while Rodney splutters and wheezes and turns several shades of red.

Finn runs back in and comes to a halt, eyeing his parents warily. "Important question!" he yells, making sure he has everyone's attention. "Does Baby Jesus have the Christmas unnawears?" he asks. "Did someone remember to make the pompom for him?"

John sinks to the floor, trash bag in his hand, gurgling painfully.

"Maybe we could make the Baby Jesus a pompom," Ada offers when neither John nor Rodney show any sign of regaining composure. "And some extras, in case the Wise Men need them too. But first – let's make your pompom secret, shall we?"

"Secret in my PANTS," Finn nods.

"Pants," Rodney mouths, and wheezes helplessly.

Ada wags a finger in his direction, then turns back to Finn, offering him her hand. "I think your daddies got into the nog," she says.

"All the _time_ ," Finn agrees, leading her to the stairs.

"Know what I say to that?" Ada asks him.

"More pompoms?"

She shakes her head, smiling warmly. "God bless us, every one."


End file.
